Phantom of ACI Preview
by PhoenixMackenzi
Summary: Preview of upcoming story. Modern Phantom of the Opera


**Hey FanFiction, remember me? Formerly GraceCannon. Well, I had a little in life crisis involving my writing, so I kind of gave up on it, and deleted all my stuff. But, that in itself is a story. A long one, at that. **

**Anywho, the point is, I'm back with a new name, new material, and a commitment to actually post my stuff every once in a while!**

**Here is the preview to a modern phantom story, just wanted to put it out there and see what everyone thought.**

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David stepped out of his BMW, and looked up at the stone fortress that so many years ago, he called his high school.

He was standing in the parking lot the Alzheimer's Society building that was in front of the school. Back when he went to school, it had been the small St. Anne's church. But that was ten years ago- he was now 28 years old, returning for the ten year Apollo Collegiate Institute reunion.

He looked up at the glowing sign that advertised the school. Spelled out in block letters that he had once rearranged to say "I love you, Audrey DeRose", was the announcement of the reunion. Below, even with the flag at half mast, was the simple sentence.

"_Rest In Peace, Audrey DeRose."_

David looked away, and walked across the street and up to the front door. A few people milled around him, but he didn't seem to recognize any of them.

He did recognize the man on the stage when he walked into the auditorium. Jacob Fowler, the president of their class. He was talking fast, pointing ecstatically to a crumpled blue costume lying on the stage.

"For only 20 dollars you can have Wally, the blue moose that was our former mascot. Poor old Wally finally retired our year. I know for a fact that Grant Spinks isn't here to buy it, he's off in Toronto. So who wants this historical memoir of our good old days?"

David sat idly watching the auction. Apparently, Jacob had stolen, found, or been given the things that best represented their high school years.

"Next, we have an item that was not donated, but found underneath the stage before the rum running tunnel was sealed up. It's a little music box with a little dressed up monkey on it. Adorable, isn't it? Kind of musty smelling, but what can you expect, it sitting down there for so long?

"So we'll start the bidding for this collector's item at 15 dollars."

David raised his hand, recognizing the monkey the second he first saw it. Its velvet lining, the lead figurine. It was exactly what she had described to him.

"15. Oh, I see 20 over there."

David turned, and his eyes bugged out slightly. Raising her hand was none other than the old ACCA dance teacher, Mrs. Cami. She hadn't changed much- her hair was still long and dark, although it had the peppering of grey around the hairline. Next to her was Jenna, who he heard now was a trophy wife, most likely to the fraternity like boy sitting next to her.

"25 from you."

David turned again, and saw none other than Korey Prince raise his hand. He was leaning against the wall, separating himself from the rest of the crowd.

David raised his hand once more, fighting for this monkey, his prize, his last memoir of _him_, of her, of that day, of everything.

"30. Going once, going twice, sold, to… "Jacob peered foreword, looking for the face hidden by the spotlight. "David Papineau!"

David hopped onto the stage, quickly greeting Jacob, and taking the music box in his arms. He made his way quietly down the side of the stairs, pausing when he passed Korey. They nodded briefly before David went back to his seat.

"Next we have none other than… Well, when I show you, you'll remember." Jacob's cheery voice became sullen. "I'm sure you all remember it now. The day when Josh Romanov was taken from us." A silence fell on the entire room. "We have here the very gun that was used to shoot him. The gun who's user was never found. Encased in cement, so it can't be used again. Got this from the police when they declared that a cold case. It's morbid, yes, but it seems to sum up senior year. I mean, we were always joking that we would put a bullet through our brains." He laughed feebly, but no one joined him. "Anyways. So, um… The gun. Right. Starting the bid at 40 dollars."

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**So what do you think? Something you'd be interested in reading? Leave a comment!**

**-PhoenixMackenzi**


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